


Lending a Hand

by TorintheMighty (Andie_ZIR)



Series: Blue Flower AU [1]
Category: Danny Phantom, Soul Eater
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andie_ZIR/pseuds/TorintheMighty
Summary: Amity Park has been abandoned for about a year now, after an explosion took the lives of the Fenton family. The previously bustling city has been reduced to a rest stop for travelers, but even that’s come to a halt.Reports of a weapon threatening people have been surfacing over the last six months in Amity Park. A blonde-haired girl with blades coming out of her wrists, taking people’s money and food. Leaving people badly injured if they even attempt to fight her or say no.Lord Death, who has been overseeing some aspects of the Ghost Zone since King Phantom and Queen Samantha’s passing, has sent his son and the Thompson sisters to investigate and, if possible, bring this weapon back to the academy.But Liz might have other plans.
Series: Blue Flower AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684390
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Lending a Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first chapter of my new story, Lending a Hand, which is an AU built by StarKitters and I. I'll add tags as I see fit.

A flash, a rumble.  
  
The ground beneath Roxy shook violently and she looked at her mother, then her father, as she grabbed the kitchen counter in an attempt to steady herself. “Mom? Dad?” the twelve-year-old asked fearfully. Her brows knit together as she watched them push their chairs back to get up, looking at each other worriedly. She could hear the loud scraping sounds they made on the tiled floor.  
  
Rumbling was never a good sign in Amity Park. It usually meant a powerful ghost was attacking, it meant lots of property damage and hiding in the basement’s ghost-proof simulation room— _alone—_ until it was over. She couldn’t help, couldn’t do anything. She felt so _useless_ when that happened, but she didn’t have powers like her dad. She would’ve known if she had them.  
  
An alarm blared in the background.  
  
Alarms meant bad things, normally. Something went wrong in the basement, or the aforementioned ghost attack. Alarms meant _get out of here as fast as you can, Roxy, I don’t want you trying to handle this yourself._ It meant even dad was a little bit afraid.  
  
“The ecto-filtrator!” Her father yelled to her mother over the blaring klaxons. His blue eyes sparkled with determination. He was always a hero, even if he wasn’t being Phantom. Looking down at his young daughter, he continued with, “Roxy, go outside, your mother and I have this handled!”  
  
She looked at her father, then at the door. She didn’t want to leave them, she was so _scared_ and just wanted to be close to the people who she knew could make her feel better, but she couldn’t help but nod.  
  
“O–Okay daddy!” The front door wasn’t far. Her parents would do whatever they needed to in the basement, then they’d come outside with her. It would be easy, right? They would come back, right?  
  
“We’ll help, Danno!” she could hear her grandfather call from the living room. She threw the front door open and ran to the fence her father and grandfather had put in the front lawn of the manor when she was younger. To keep her from running out where her dad couldn’t see her when she was little.  
  
She stood there for what seemed like forever, watching the house fearfully. “C’mon… Mom, dad… Grandma, grandpa… Aunt Jazz... I don’t wanna be alone here,” she mumbled to herself.  
  
She felt a shiver run up her spine, as if a cold snake had curled around her. “ _Pop goes the weasel_ ,” a chilling voice sang, but there was no one around Roxy to have said it.  
  
Which meant one thing.  
  
It was a _ghost_. And she didn’t have her dad’s powers so she couldn’t just _fight_ the ghost.  
  
With fear filling her voice, Roxy tried to make the ghost leave her alone the only way she could; verbally. “St–Stay back, ghost! My dad’s a ghost hunter! He’ll beat you!”  
  
“Your _daddy_ will be dead soon enough. And so will you,” the voice said happily. Roxy could almost _hear_ the grin on the invisible ghost’s face. “Three… Two… One…”  
  
Roxy was suddenly pushed towards the manor just as it exploded. Green flames and dark smoke shot upwards and out through the windows and the door. She felt the flames lick at her hands, engulfing them in a painful fire. She screamed, falling to the pavement.  
  
She laid on the ground, trying to put the flames out by flapping her hands, but it didn’t work. It took her way too long to remember to stop, drop, and roll, and that finally put the flames out. She was left with leathery red skin streaked green with ectoplasm. The ghostly essence swirled like frost across her skin, leaving snowflake patterns on her hands and wrists.  
  
Left on the ground, whimpering, she could only hear as people gathered by the house, whispering and muttering. No one dared to get close at first, scared of what happened with the “Freaky Fenton’s” this time. Then, someone broke down the gate and a whole group of people ran in. Opening her pain-filled, bleary eyes revealed that they were firefighters. Come to put out the fire, no doubt. One of them knelt in front of her.  
  
“Hey, kiddo…” they said softly. A female voice. They probably sent the most mother-like firefighter to talk to her.  
  
Smart.  
  
Roxy refused to answer, however, and she closed her eyes again. The real world was too much right now. She didn’t want to talk with anyone right now, she wanted to _cry_. She wanted her parents, where were they?  
  
She attempted to put a hand on her shoulder. “Your hands look pretty burned; can I look at them?”  
  
“No,” Roxy croaked, attempting to glare with closed eyes. Pulling herself away from the firefighter, she sat up and turned around so she didn’t have to talk.  
  
“Can you tell me what happened?”  
  
She paused. “‘Sploded.”  
  
“Was it an invention…?”  
  
“... Portal.”  
  
They sat in silence until the fire was out, and Roxy immediately tried to run back in. Her dad was probably holding up a ghost shield and they were all in the basement, fine and not hurt and _definitely_ not dead.  
  
“Chief!” another fireman called. “We’ve got five bodies in the basement!”  
  
No.  
  
No.  
  
That couldn’t be right.  
  
“ _No!_ ” Roxy screamed, her voice breaking. Her whole world had come crashing down. She broke past a firefighter who was exiting the building and darted into the living room. “Mom, dad!” She called, looking around. People with large hands tried to grab her but she broke free by wiggling and turning.  
  
The first floor was ruined, burned black and streaked green. Picture frames were shattered, a quick look in the kitchen told Roxy that dinner was destroyed. The gothic-style library her mother was so proud of was reduced to mostly ashes. A four-wheeled device that looked sort of like a lawnmower sat near the entrance to the basement.  
  
"Aunt Jazz!"  
  
None of her family appeared no matter how hard she looked and screamed for them.  
  
“Grandma, Grandpa!” She pleaded for at least _one_ of them to come out, to say everything was alright. To tell her that, maybe, it was all some kind of joke. They’d come out and yell ‘ _Surprise!_ ’ and everything would be _fine._ Maybe there would be a cake and they would all laugh about it years down the line.  
  
But when she came to the basement door, it was melted, the metal of the door seemingly welded to the door frame. She slammed a fist into the metal door, causing a dent. She could feel the metal under her fist giving way, she heard it groaning. She heard people step back.  
  
“No, no, they c–can’t be,” she whimpered. Her voice cracked. This had to be a _nightmare_.  
  
“We have to take you—”  
  
She didn’t want to go _anywhere_. Especially with _strangers_! “Leave me _**alone**_!” Roxy screamed, feeling power coming from her vocal cords. It built and grew until it only had one way to go—out. She heard shouts of surprise and things crashing, but she kept screaming until she couldn’t anymore, left tired where she stood.  
  
“...eave…” she mumbled, curling up against the door. She saw the boots of the firefighters scrambling to get out of the house.  
  
Good.  
  
No one to disturb her as she cried.  
  


* * *

  
Drenched in a cold sweat, Roxy shot up in bed, her blue eyes wide. Her heart pounded in her chest, a heavy and constant _tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump_ in her ears. She felt the sheets and blankets bunch up under her fingers as she squeezed her hands tightly. Her lungs begged for oxygen as she tried to bring her breathing back under control, somehow.  
  
She looked around her parent’s bedroom, trying to bring herself back to the present. “It… It was just a nightmare… I’m here, in the present…” She tried to tell herself.  
  
The ‘ _without my family’_ went unsaid.  
  
Pushing her blonde hair up so it didn’t sit in her face, Roxy looked out the window to her left. It was still dark outside, probably around four in the morning if she had to guess. The electricity had been turned off months ago, and she needed new batteries for her portable charger if her phone was going to be of any use.  
  
“... I need breakfast,” she muttered to herself, pushing the sheets away. Today felt like it was going to be a horrible day, horrible days always started off with nightmares like that. It was just Pipra trying to remind Roxy of the past that she wanted to try and forget, most likely. She didn’t know what was and wasn’t an actual nightmare anymore.  
  
Maybe living in the remains of the manor hadn’t been Roxana Fenton’s _best_ idea.  
  
Nonetheless, she made her way out of the room, her feet shuffling against the cold wooden floors. She glared at the floor as she made her way to the closet to pull out one of her dad’s old sweaters and put it on to protect herself from the chilly autumn air.  
  
“Stupid Illinois weather,” she grumbled, kicking at something that had fallen on the floor. It had sounded like a tree nut, but she couldn’t be sure with such low light. She didn’t really care what it was, anyways. Blinking, her eyes started to glow a bright green, illuminating the area around her easily.  
  
As she floated down the broken staircase in the dark, she remembered the various times social workers had shown up at the decrepit manor to take her to her new home.  
  
Sometimes, they came with police officers. Once, they came with Guys in White agents, hoping to scare her into going with them.  
  
That was the last time anyone had shown up at the house and she made sure of it.  
  
It wasn’t like she _cared_ who showed up. She told herself she didn’t, that she could live alone all she wanted. No one would bother her and no one could _die_ around her. No one to break her heart like before.  
  
It was perfect.  
  
Roxy huffed, making her way to the kitchen in the dark. Floating up, she opened the cabinets.  
  
Nothing.  
  
She couldn’t have anything in the fridge or freezer because the power was off, it was off in the whole city. So, she had no food. Great.  
  
The girl shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I can get more food later.”  
  
There was a noise, coming from the shell that used to be the living room. Roxy narrowed her eyes. Most animals knew better than to stray into _her_ home, so that meant it was either the wind, or someone was in her house.  
  
She bared a pair of sharp fangs and hissed lowly. No one would be staying in _her_ house for long!  
  
Stalking towards the doorway to the living room, she started to hear voices.  
  
“—ace was stocked really well, Dylan,” a female voice said. She sounded younger than her mother had been, but definitely older than Roxy by a good bit.  
  
“Yeah, it’s as if someone actually lived here recently, Karen,” the man—Dylan, she figured—replied. “But I checked, no one was home. The stairs are broken as fuck, no one could get up there.”  
  
“Think again, dipshit,” Roxy growled, making the pair jump nearly three feet in the air. “I’ll give you one chance, get the _fuck_ out of my house.”  
  
“Aww, look, it’s a little girl, Dylan!” Karen grinned, as if not hearing the threats aimed at the two of them.  
  
“What’re you doing in a place like this, sweetie? Did mommy and daddy forget you?”  
  
That was _it_.  
  
Another growl tore from the girl’s throat and her hands became engulfed in bright white light. It dispelled with a hard _clang_ , showing off two _very sharp_ axe blades. They went past her clenched fists for about half a foot before tapering off into two sharp points. The metal was black while the blades themselves were a toxic green. With a frustrated scream, Roxy ran forward, readying one of her blades. She heard the couple scream, saw them start running, and she could only keep chasing them, her anger far too potent.  
  
The man tripped over the lip in the front door and Roxy could hear the woman call his name. With all her ghostly strength, she pinned the man down with a bare foot, pointing a blade at his throat.  
  
“You stay the _fuck_ out of Amity Park! This is _my_ town, _mine_! I’m not afraid to cut open your throat to make my point!” The tip if the blade touched his skin. “Take what you need from the stores and _leave me alone_!”  
  
She took her foot off the man, shoving him off the front steps. “Now leave!”  
  
As she turned around, she heard them both scream and run away. She would just take their things as payment for stealing her food. It was good enough, she needed new clothes anyways.  
  
As she grabbed the only backpack she found, her stomach growled. “Stupid people in my house, taking my food…” she muttered angrily as she rummaged through the bag. There was a laptop, some batteries of various sizes and types (score!), a couple books…  
  
But no food.  
  
Those people took _all her food_. They probably had it in another backpack that they took with them. This wasn’t the apocalypse! Didn’t people know not to steal things from random houses? The idiots…  
  
If she saw them again, she’d probably shoot them with the ectogun she kept hidden in her room. That was a suitable punishment, in her eyes. It wouldn’t kill them; just burn their skin or whatever clothes they were wearing. She’d kill them if they came back, though.  
  
At least FentonWorks was locked up. They couldn’t get to anything in there because it was running on a generator and the safety systems were up and only _she_ had the outside key to turn it off, tucked safely in the wall of her bedroom in the manor.  
  
Well… It was time to start the day.  
  


* * *

  
Patrolling was one of Roxy’s favorite activities that she did during the day. It helped her make sure she was truly alone in Amity Park. She didn’t want anyone in _her_ home and she would make sure anyone who tried to stay would be met with violence and threats.  
  
Patrols were quiet times to think about things, like what type of weapon she was. She had never transformed fully, only those partial transformations like she had done earlier in the morning.  
  
Of course, she knew she was a bladed weapon, but was she a scythe? Some kind of cool sword? It always intrigued her when she thought about it, but she was afraid that she might get stuck as a weapon if she tried to transform fully, so she never did.  
  
As she marched through the streets, peering through the windows, she could feel her core _purr_. In the two hours she had been outside in the dark, she hadn’t found a single person. She didn’t even find any trace of those stupid people who had broken into her home!  
  
Her home…  
  
It wasn’t going to be home for much longer.  
  
The nightmares were getting to be too much. She didn’t know if they were being caused by Pipra or just by her location, but she knew she couldn’t keep living in the shell of a house. Her family’s bodies were still in the basement, for Oblivion’s sake!  
  
She was too scared to take them out, afraid of what she would find at this point.  
  
If it was Pipra causing the nightmares, she would just throw the demon ghost into the ghost zone for a bit so she could get some much-needed sleep. Or she could just yell at the ghost. Sometimes yelling worked wonders.  
  
What _was_ Pipra’s problem? Wasn’t there some _other_ person she could haunt? Someone else’s life to ruin? Honestly, Roxy was just sick of the ghost who hated other’s happiness.  
  
A rustle in an alley caught Roxy’s attention and her eyes glowed brightly as she went to go check. Her brow knitted as she studied each and every part of that alley that she could see. “Who’s there!?” She called, ready to attack at a moment’s notice. A blade slipped out of her wrist, the blade seeming to glow ethereally.  
  
But she wouldn’t need to attack.  
  
There was the sound of an animal chittering and a small head poked out of a trash can. Black and brown fur with a black and white mask on its face and curious, dark eyes. A raccoon, about one to two months old if the size was telling her anything. Her expression softened immediately; she had always loved raccoons.  
  
Even though she craved the silence of being alone, feeling like she deserved it for being alive while the rest of her family was _gone_ , she missed being around animals the most. Her mother used to work for the city’s animal shelter and Roxy would be able to go in sometimes and see all the animals, even the baby ones.  
  
With that thought, she steeled her resolved. The blade disappeared within her. She and this raccoon would be friends, if it wanted to be near her.  
  
“Aww, you’re just a baby,” she said softly, holding out a hand. The creature ran to her hand and sniffed it before running up her arm, plopping itself on her shoulder. It chattered happily—at least Roxy thought it sounded happy—and she couldn’t help but smile herself. “I’ll name you Carey. You and I can live together, how about that?”  
  
The newly named Carey scrambled to the top of Roxy’s head and chittered again, their little fingers digging into the girl’s blonde hair. It made her smile.  
  
“C’mon, Care, we’ve gotta finish this patrol, then I can give you some real good food back at home,” she said as she gently took the baby raccoon out of her hair. She held the animal close as she transformed.  
  
Replacing the blonde teen was a light blue-skinned ghost with toxic green eyes and snow-white hair. She pulled her cape off, using it to wrap the raccoon up. “Here, this’ll keep you warm while we fly, bud,” she said, watching as the creature clapped its small hands.  
  
Roxy chuckled, cradling the animal close with a grin. “Alright, first we’ll finish up the patrol, then we’ll get food, _then_ we’ll go home.”  
  


* * *

  
There were at least five grocery stores—maybe more, Roxy didn’t know all of them—in Amity Park, but Roxy preferred the one farthest from her current home. They used to have the _best_ pastries, when they were open, but since everyone left, most of what was left out either went stale, got moldy, or both. Even though she was partially a ghost now, she didn’t want to see if she was immune to food poisoning or whatever she would get if she ate bad food.  
  
She refused to go to any other grocery store if she could help it. It was also the biggest grocery store, to her, and was right next to a Hot Topic that had really nice clothes. She used to go there all the time with her mom and they’d have fun picking out chokers and charm bracelets. Roxy would get the chance to ask about bands she had never seen before, and her mother would be more than happy to respond to her questions.  
  
It was filled with happy memories that she refused to let go of, afraid that if she did, she would only be left with anger and resentment for her current situation.  
  
Touching down in front of the supermarket just as the sun started to rise—which meant it was now about seven in the morning—Roxy stepped through the broken glass doors with ease. Before she knew everything about her powers, she had run all the way here when everyone left. She needed food desperately, and she had gone to the only place she remembered that would have food. She banged on the sliding doors but no one had answered. She nearly gave up on getting in, until she saw it.  
  
 _It_ was a heavy metal trash can on the sidewalk outside of the store.  
  
She managed to pull the trash can out of the cement with strength she didn’t know she actually had and hurled it at the doors, breaking them open. The trash can still sat innocently in the entryway, its contents spilling out on the linoleum floor.  
  
Pushing past the swinging doors, breathing in the stale air of the store, Roxy sighed. It smelled of mold. She needed to take out anything that went bad in the bakery and produce sections, but she didn’t know where she would put all that trash. It wasn’t like they had a trash pick-up service anymore.  
  
Carey chittered and squirmed out of Roxy’s makeshift blanket to run onto her head.  
  
“Alright, I’ll pick up some bread for you, buddy,” she said, as if the creature knew what she was saying.  
  
Thinking about the garbage trucks wasn’t important right now, she needed food, water, and some new towels if she could find any. She felt her stomach grumble again and rubbed it slightly. Stupid human body needs.  
  
“Don’t worry, you’ll get food too,” she mumbled, taking a bag of chips off the shelf to her left and popping it open. After throwing a few chips in her mouth, she continued her journey into the market.  
  
“Let’s see… I need breakfast, maybe some canned veggies? I could try to make some rice and veggies for dinner, that could last me a few days at least…” She took what she needed as she talked, flying from aisle to aisle as fast as she could. “Oooh, I wonder if the marshmallows are still good, maybe I can make s’mores when I get back to FentonWorks.”  
  
There was so much to do today. She had finished her morning patrol, but she needed to go to the gas stations and get as much gasoline as she could. She needed a lot if this was going to be perfect like she wanted. Everything was already moved over to FentonWorks, it was time to end the nightmares, hopefully. And then, in the evening, she needed to do another patrol of the area. Maybe she could do some stargazing when she was done with it all.  
  
With a backpack and four shopping bags full of food and other needed supplies (like Carey’s bread, and she got _a lot_ of bread for her new best friend), Roxy took off from the grocery store, her powers of flight taking her towards FentonWorks. Her new home, if everything went well tonight.  
  
FentonWorks wasn’t far from the store, just a few blocks away. It remained the only house with power due to the generator in the basement that took power directly from the Ghost Zone. Roxy had managed to rig an antenna to get basic cable TV and used her ghost powers for any heating she needed. As for washing herself, her mother had convinced the Fenton’s to get a rainwater collecting basin years before Roxy had even been born, and sometimes she topped the water supply off with a couple gallons of bottled water she swiped from one of the stores.  
  
Her grandparents’ home was also now the only place with a working ghost portal. Even if Roxy _did_ go into the manor’s basement, everything had exploded. She couldn’t fix any of it. So, after finding a few old videos explaining how to keep the portal running that were _definitely_ meant for her father when he was a teen, Roxy managed to get it back up and running and frequently ventured inside to do certain… ghostly things.  
  
Like getting the ectoplasmic shakes she needed for the hunger that knotted in her belly. The constant, visceral pain that screamed at her to feed on other ghosts. She ignored it to the best of her abilities, using the aforementioned shakes to try and sate it.  
  
Shaking her head, she touched down in the backyard of FentonWorks. It was the _only_ access point to the rest of the house, and the fence that went all the way around the property was much too tall for someone to scale, even with help. The house was fortified and she made sure that she was the only one who could access it.  
  
With a sigh, she opened the back door and stepped inside, plopping her groceries down on the floor. She placed Carey next to them. “I’ll be back,” she said. “I need some more things for tonight,” she whispered as she took off her backpack and exited the house once more.  
  
Now it was time to find a gas station.  
  


* * *

It was about nine in the morning now, and Carey was asleep in her dad’s room, which was fine.  
  
Roxy had managed to get all the gasoline she needed for tonight, and boy was that exhausting work, carrying all those tanks. But it was worth it if she could find some semblance of peace once this was over. They were all in the manor, just waiting for Roxy to light one of them on fire.  
  
She stepped outside, stretching her arms and legs as she absorbed the sun’s rays of light. Hearing a chirping sound to her left, Roxy looked up and saw one of her Uncle Tucker’s drones. With a groan, she waved at it. “Hi, Uncle Tucker. Yes, I’m fine, I’m still alive, and I adopted a baby raccoon earlier. Thank you for the care package.”  
  
Attached to the drone was a care package, sent by her well-meaning Uncle. She knew that he was just trying to help, that he was hurting just as much as she was—if not more—but… It hurt, being reminded of her old life. Of what she _had_ and _lost_.  
  
“Today’s plans are the same as always,” she lied. “Patrol the area a few times, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner at appropriate times, maybe go out to Lake Eerie to practice my ghost powers before coming home and practicing some more from those books Grandma Maddie left.”  
  
She sat on the stoop, cradling her chin for a moment. “I may have threatened some people this morning, but, like, what else was I supposed to do when I found them basically in my house? They also stole all my food so I had to go on an early grocery run. Which is kinda how I met Carey, the baby raccoon I adopted.” A pause. “I did get a laptop and some batteries, though. They, uh, left it in the house.”  
  
She put her head in her hands and sighed. “I’m taking your earlier advice and moving into FentonWorks. I… I don’t know what’ll happen with the manor yet but… The nightmares are becoming too much so I decided I needed a change of scenery.” With that she stood.  
  
“I gotta… Go patrol or something, I don’t know just yet. Talk to you tomorrow, Uncle Tuck.” She transformed and took off, faster than the drone could follow. Of course, she knew that Tucker had ways of telling where she was. She was never _truly_ alone in Amity Park, she knew he would show up at the first sign of trouble to protect his niece, his best friend’s daughter.  
  
It was heartwarming, sort of, but Roxy didn’t really want any of it. She just wanted to be alone for the rest of her life, however long it ended up being. She didn’t know if her ghost powers would make her live forever…  
  
Or cut her life very _short_.  
  
It was hard, having to live like this, but she felt she deserved it. She couldn’t do anything to save her family, it was _her_ fault they were all gone now. The Manson’s were practically terrified of her very _existence_ so they packed up and left as soon as they learned their granddaughter was a _freak_.  
  
They had actually called her that. To her face. It stung, a lot. She decided right then that she didn’t want them as her family anymore.  
  
A chill ran up her spine and Roxy shivered, feeling her ghost sense pool in her throat instead of slip out of her lips. Something was wrong, it had never done that before.  
  
“Do you even know what we’re supposed to be looking for?” A tired and bored voice groaned. Roxy could feel ectoplasm start to build up in her hands when she heard the voice, a small growl slipping past her lips.  
  
“Yes, do you?” a smooth voice replied.  
  
“What about that?” A third, more cheerful voice, chimed in. Roxy froze and turned invisible, in case they meant _her_. Just because she couldn’t see where they were didn’t mean they couldn’t see _her_.  
  
“Patty, that’s just a pile of garbage.”  
  
All Roxy could hear was the third voice—Patty—humming a cheerful tune. Finally, they came into view, and Roxy couldn’t help but glare at them.  
  
The first one she noticed was the oldest girl. She also happened to be the tallest of the group. She had dark blonde hair, from what Roxy could tell from this distance, and dressed like someone from an old western movie.  
  
The next girl, with lighter blonde hair, was about a head shorter than the older girl, but she wore the same exact outfit. They were probably sisters or something, if Roxy had to guess.  
  
The last person was the one that Roxy stared at the longest, however.  
  
He was definitely shorter than even the younger girl, by a few inches at least. He wore a dark suit with white accents and held himself very symmetrically. No slouching or anything. He looked like one of the boys that went to those prep schools Grandma Manson wanted to send her to, but his _hair_ was something else. Mostly black, which reminded her of her father, but with three white lines in them.  
  
As if sensing he was being stared at, he looked in Roxy’s direction, his golden eyes visible from even Roxy’s position.  
  
She gulped and took off.


End file.
